


From Whence We Came

by SirWaddlesEsquire



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: F/M, pinecest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:43:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22179514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirWaddlesEsquire/pseuds/SirWaddlesEsquire
Summary: “All men should strive to learn before they die, what they are running from, and to, and why.” - James Thurber (Pinecest)
Relationships: Dipper Pines/Mabel Pines
Comments: 2
Kudos: 31





	From Whence We Came

TW: Implied Long-term Verbal and Physical Abuse, TW: Mild Derogatory Language, TW: Incest  
This story deals with Pines Twins that have suffered abuse and neglect from both parents. The twins have also witnessed their parents’ maltreatment of each other, which is an incredibly damaging and difficult thing to witness and internalize from a young age, to say nothing of understanding how to process such things going forward into one’s own life. There is an implication of physical abuse, as well as very obvious verbal abuse. If any of this is difficult to read, it may be best to steer clear of this story.

The author would like to remind all readers that, while we are invariably to some degree a product of our past experiences, they are NOT determinate for those of our future. No matter where you are, no matter who you are, no matter what has been done to you, you are a special person in your own right, and you are worthy of love. Do not ever, ever, ever doubt that.  
________________________________________  
The soft tinkling of the piano flowed throughout the dining room. It somehow managed to soar over the general babble of a dozen conversations, present without being domineering, as participating voices faded into abstract white noise due in part to their number and in part due to their volume. Crisply dressed waiters and waitresses, their pressed uniforms matching the cloth napkins present at each place setting, marched along with distinct purpose. In the avenues of space between tables, they stopped here and there to attend to the various needs of a patron. Subdued lighting from the extensive chandeliers lit the room, assisted by the candles placed at each table, their glow sufficient yet intimate. It was all clearly designed to create a comforting atmosphere, where one might be able to relax and be carefree for a time.

It freaked the hell out of Dipper Pines.

From a table in the back corner, he sat, gazing out at the other diners, and feeling supremely out of place. Maybe it was the fact that he was wearing a suit. He only owned the one; purchased straight off the rack at a discount department store, its pallid grey color and awkward fit a clear contrast to the image of sophistication the article of clothing was supposed to express. Just the fear of how ridiculous he must look made him pull absently at his collar, convinced he likely hadn’t correctly knotted the single tie he owned. Maybe it was the place itself, as well as the company such a place attracted. A distinct flavor of the ‘upper crust’, a distinction that seemed to have no set system of rules, a distinction unclear in whether it was awarded or whether it was claimed, a distinction that evoked too many intentionally obfuscated memories.

Maybe it was the reason he was here at all, sitting at this restaurant. In many ways it was difficult to rationalize why he was here, among this sort of people, this carefully orchestrated atmosphere, this affectated culture. This anathema. Everything about it was difficult. So why was he here?

Dipper snuck a glance at the person occupying the seat next to him and, just as it did every time he stole such glances, his heart fairly skipped a beat.

She was flawless. Not in the ways of magazine covers and conspicuously absent blemishes. Rather, her flawlessness could be found in the intangible, abstract ways. Her vivacious nature; playful and grave at the same time. Her effortless affection; caring and devotion without thought. Her smile; slower to appear than once it was, but still a constant despite the years. She was flawless in all the ways that required more than a single word to describe and more than a single thought to recognize. In all the ways that so few ever managed to fully appreciate. In all the ways that maybe only he truly could. In all the ways that likely only he ever had.

No, there could really be no question why he was here. For when it came to her, there could be no question of how far he would be willing to go. It was her. It always had been, and always would be her: his twin sister, Mabel Pines.

Dipper reached out slowly, his movements careful, and enveloped her hand with his own. He watched as she paused for a moment, a hesitation that he know only he would have recognized, before turning to face him, her eyebrows raised in a question.  
“Are you sure that you’re alright? How do you feel?” he asked her, his voice one of gentle prodding.

Mabel nodded her head before shrugging her shoulders slightly. Dipper understood the feeling. It was likely one which they shared at this moment. With a motion smoothed by practice, he raised her hand and planted a kiss on each of her knuckles before pressing his lips to her palm. He watched as her face softened, that smile he adored so much finally spreading across her face. It tugged at his heart-strings. It crushed them mercilessly.

“We’ll get through this,” he told her. “We’ll get through it together. You know that, right?”

Mabel glanced away, her gaze dropping to the table. She nodded again, slower this time. “I know. Like we always have, every time before. It’s just…” her voice drifted off.

“Yeah,” Dipper agreed. “It is just.”

The two shared a quiet moment of contemplation, the amicable silence a small measure of comfort at last.

Giving her hand a squeeze, Dipper sighed. “Mabel, I love you.”

She squeezed his hand back. “I love you t-“

Her words died as her face suddenly went blank. One moment her face featured her customary smile, the next it was completely absent of any emotion at all. As if it had never existed in the first place. Instead, she just stared forward, at the front of the restaurant, her entire body rigid.

Dipper was familiar with this particular occurrence. He understood all too well. What’s more, he knew that he was no different. He could already his shoulders begin to tense and his back straighten, with the faintest hints of a headache beginning behind his eyes. There could be only one cause of Mabel’s sudden change, or of his own.

After giving one last comforting squeeze, and receiving one in return, Dipper quickly dropped Mabel’s hand, as if severing the connection. Then, mentally chastising himself into stillness, he too stared forward. Together, the two watched. They tracked the approach of a man and a woman as they made their through the dining room. The man brushed past the wait staff and the other patrons, striding in a manner that was effortlessly imposing. The woman followed behind, her posture slightly hunched. Finally, they came to a stop at the other side of the table, and Dipper and Mabel stood up in greetings.

There was a moment of silence, awkward and just a beat too long, before Dipper broke it. “Hi dad. Hi mom.”

Their father smiled. Where some men offered a smile, Douglas Pines made it an imperative. It settled on his face, the corners turning up to lend a carefully intentional edge to the expression, as much as he would deny it. Of course, that mindful calculation was present in nearly every aspect of their father. The three-piece suit; impeccably tailored, entirely in fashion, and designed to instantly catch the eye. The full head of hair; its style slick with product and undoubtedly costly, its balance of brown and grey exactly right. The body posture; a stance consisting of thrown back shoulders, a leveled chin, perhaps a hand in the pocket, all of which as if to demonstrate carefree assurance. In fact, everything about Mr. Pines hinted at a predilection for predacity; if one knew where to look. And Dipper knew where to look.

“Mason, Mabel,” Mr. Pines said cheerfully. “We were pleased to get your invitation for this evening. It made your mother very happy, you know, to hear from you two again.”

As he spoke, Mr. Pines pulled a chair back from the table, and their mother primly took the proffered seat. Estella Pines was beautiful. She had always been a striking woman, a sense of classic elegance composed in the manner of high cheek bones, a slender neck, and long limbs. Combined with the right evening dress, stately coiffed hair, and an opulent necklace, the presented sense of delicacy was undeniable. As she came to a rest in the chair, Mr. Pines carefully pushed it into place. Estella Pines said nothing.

“Yeah, well, we were glad –” Dipper began, but was cut off by his father.

“I must say, it’s a much nicer place than the usual course of fare you two drag us out to.” Mr. Pines looked around the dining room as he spoke. “Dare I hope that you are beginning to come to your senses? In that regard at least?” He flashed his smile again, and took his own seat.

Dipper could feel himself tense at the comment, a feeling which he was all too accustomed to. To distract himself from it, he turned and politely held the chair for Mabel as she sat. Of course, Mabel didn’t need any help. She and Dipper had fallen into several back-and-forths about how he did not have to do such things and how she was perfectly capable herself, thank you very much. They both knew that the squabbles were never about the actual individual act. Still, in the moment, Dipper had to help Mabel into her chair and, thankfully, Mabel made no comment.

Assured that Mabel was settled, Dipper turned and gestured to the waiter, who was standing ready. Dipper had made sure to arrive early and seek out the individual who would be their waiter for the evening. It was a chance to ensure that the waiter was in on the plan and was up for assisting in the various steps. It was also a chance to give warning. The waiter had given his assurances that everything was under control and nothing could go wrong. Dipper was sure the waiter did not realize just how wishful that line of thinking was.

Still, the waiter caught Dipper’s gesture, and quickly made his way over with the first step of the plan. Stopping at the table, the waiter nodded to Mr. Pines, smiled at the ladies, and gave a slight bow to Dipper. The bow allowed the waiter to hold out the tray he was carrying, displaying to the table the three glass flutes of bubbling, pale-yellow liquid. Dipper plucked two of the flutes up and handed them to his father and mother, taking the last for himself. The waiter nodded once more and began to make his retreat.

Raising his glass, Dipper cleared his throat. “I, uh, I just want to say –” But he was once again cut off by his father.

“What is this?” Douglas Pines demanded, sniffing at the drink. “Champagne? Why would you order us champagne?”

“Well, I guess, um,” Dipper stammered. “I thought it was, well, appropriate for the –”

“And why doesn’t Mabel have a glass? Why wouldn’t you get your sister some as well?” The question was pointed.

“Mabel doesn’t drink, dad.” Dipper couldn’t prevent the small sigh from escaping. “You know that.”

“The hell she doesn’t. This is unacceptable.” And putting the flute back on the table and turning in his chair slightly, Mr. Pines began to snap his fingers. “You there, waiter! Come on back here! Chop chop.”

“Dad, no, don’t.” Dipper began, but it was too late. The waiter quickly reversed his movement and appeared once more at the table.

“Yes, sir?” The waiter’s voice was unfailingly polite. “May I assist you?”

Dipper made to speak up, desperate to tell the waiter no. But his father beat him to it. “Yes, it’s this champagne stuff.” His father’s tone was one of reproof, with no effort to disguise it. “We don’t take to such fruity things in this family. You understand, I am sure.”

It wasn’t a question. “Of course, Sir.” The waiter’s smile didn’t falter.

“So why don’t you go ahead and take these back.” Mr. Pines plucked the flute from his wife’s hand and handed both back to the waiter without looking in the waiter’s direction. “And instead, bring out a bottle of white wine for the ladies. Something light, something in season, something Italian. You’ll make the right choice, I am sure.” While once again not actually a question, this time the statement had a tone behind it; a suggestion of what might occur should Mr. Pines’ assumption be unmet. “And some scotch for me and my son. Macallan. 25 year. Neat. And do be quick about it.”

A snap of his fingers made clear that Douglas Pines considered the conversation over.

The waiter shot a look at Dipper, who could only shoot what he hoped was a look of apology back. With a blank face, the waiter nodded once, bowed again, and retreated. Dipper rubbed absently at his forehead, positive that his headache was spreading. Then, realizing that he was still standing, and that his father was staring at him, Dipper quickly dropped his hand and sat down.

For a moment, no one at the table spoke. The twins’ father continued to stare at Dipper, a look of consideration on his face, his fingers tapping idly at the tabletop. Out of the corner of his eye, Dipper could see that Mabel was also looking in his direction, her hands folded in her lap and her expression careful. Mostly careful. There was a slight hitch to an eyebrow and she chewed slightly on the barest corner of her lip; signs that gave her away if you knew to catch them. The twins’ mother looked down at her plate, her face was devoid of any emotion. Dipper was fairly sure she’d been doing so since she had first taken her seat.

Conscious of the stretching moment, Dipper once again cleared his throat. “Right, well, thank you dad. Now, as I was saying –”

“I really do wish you would come join me at the firm.” Mr. Pines spoke right over his son. “I simply do not understand why you insist on wasting your time at that magazine. You make practically nothing, and the place isn’t exactly going anywhere. There’s no future there.”

The clicking of Dipper’s teeth as his mouth snapped shut was then followed by the gritting of those teeth. It had to be the hundredth time his father had brought this subject up. Which meant it would soon be the hundredth time Dipper had explained why his father’s statements weren’t accurate. Even as he reopened his mouth to reply, Dipper wondered what the setting for the hundred-and-first time would be.

“First of all, dad, I can’t just join your firm. You have to actually go to law school first to become a lawyer.” Even in his frustration, Dipper made sure to keep his tone respectful. “Second, I actually really enjoy working at the magazine. I love all of the …”  
“Nonsense, nonsense.” Douglas Pine’s waved his hand dismissively as he interrupted. “We’ll set you up with an interview with Jenkins over in transactions. Jenkins and I go way back. We’ll get you working with contracts, and the like. Maybe some research. You’ll love it down there. Books and paper everywhere, plenty of work to keep you busy. It’ll be like when you were in high school. Always with your nose in a book, always getting excited about the dumbest things. You remember? It’s no wonder you never had a girlfriend!” Mr. Pines barked his laugh. No one else at the table joined in.

“They weren’t… they weren’t dumb.” Dipper couldn’t keep a touch of petulance from creeping into his voice, and he hated himself a little for it. “They were perfectly legitimate, and it helped me…”

“Actually, now that I think on it, it’s the perfect time. We just fired that screwball over in litigation. Asked to take on a pro bono case. Pro bono. Waste the firm’s time and money. Not a damn charity, are we?” Dipper couldn’t be sure if his father was actually expecting a response, and so he didn’t say anything. He just watched his father. “Damn right we’re not! Now, where the hell is that waiter?”

The twins’ father quickly raised his hand to gesture. Beside him, the twins’ mother flinched.

Luckily, before Douglas Pines could begin snapping again, the waiter arrived, his tray now laden with four new drinks. Two wine glasses contained the white wine and two small tumblers held the amber colored scotch. The waiter quickly placed the wine glasses on the table in front of Mabel and their mother. Their father accepted his glass from the waiter, a pleased smile appearing on his face. Dipper accepted his as well. The waiter hesitated for a moment before looking to Mr. Pines. After Mr. Pines nodded once, the waiter beat a hasty retreat.

“Well then, I think this calls for a proper toast.” Douglas Pines stated, lifting his glass. “To success.” His gaze scanned the other occupants of the table, expectant.

Their mother did not look up, did not budge, did not react. Mabel quickly looked away, as if the wall were suddenly very interesting. She made no movement to reach for her glass. Dipper watched as his father’s scrutiny returned to him. There was a weight to that gaze. One that Dipper was all too acquainted with. So, repressing a sigh before anyone else could hear it, he lifted his glass to the toast, mumbling a ‘to success’ of his own.

Mirroring his father, Dipper took a sip of the drink, tilting his head back as the strong liquor forced its way through him. Bitter, unpalatable, and uncomfortably overbearing, it was not to his taste at all. The temptation to cough threatened to overcome him, but he resisted. He knew better than that by now.

“Ah, now that’s more like it,” the smacking of lips announced that Mr. Pines was indeed pleased. “And that’s another thing, now that I think of it. Working down at the firm would do wonders for your success with the ladies!”

Beside him, Dipper could feel Mabel stir before returning to stillness. He carefully put his glass down, considering his next words. He needn’t have bothered.

“Ha! Oh yes!” His father continued. “Yes, I daresay you could use all the help you can get in that department, couldn’t you, boy? What with your frivolous book and your ridiculous work, you probably wouldn’t know your way around a woman if she drew you a map! That is if she noticed you enough to draw you one in the first place!”

Once again, Mabel stirred at his side, this time gripping the arm of her chair, her knuckles white, before she schooled herself to rigidity once more, placing her hand back in her lap.

“But you put a man in a suit, you give him some actual respectability, and all those choice little fillies out there start lining up!” The following laugh was one which others would categorize as full of malice. But Dipper knew it wasn’t. Malice required an intent to be cruel. Douglas Pines lacked such an intention. Douglas Pines simply was. “It’s like I was telling my secretary, Cynthia the other day…”

At this Mabel started, nearly forcibly shooting up from her seat. Dipper watched in surprise as her head swung around and, for the first time in the evening, Mabel made eye contact with her father.

“Cynthia is your secretary?” Mabel’s voice was strained as she asked the question. “Not Cynthia … Derkins?! Please don’t tell me it’s Cynthia Derkins!”

Mr. Pines was clearly taken aback. “Derkins?” He paused to think of a moment. “Um, why yes, I do believe that is her last name. How… how did you know that?”

“Because I went to school with Cynthia Derkins.” Mabel hissed from between her teeth as Dipper stared on wide eyed. The look on his sister’s face was almost unrecognizable. “She was in my grade. She came over to sleepovers all the time. Sleepovers at our house. She was over often enough that you said she was practically your second daughter!”

Mabel was leaning forward in her seat, wringing her napkin in her lap. Dipper found himself studying the look on her face. It definitely wasn’t her normal look. It was animated, and not of fear. But rather anger. Righteous anger. He quickly turned to study his father. His look wasn’t his normal one either. It was cautious. Perhaps even with a hint of hesitation on it. Dipper was thoroughly confused.

“We still talk, dad, Cynthia and I.” Mabel’s tone was bordering on accusatory now as she continue to lean forward, staring at her father across the table. Their father actually began to shift backward in his seat. “She’s been telling me about a man she’s been seeing. A married man. So, an affair. A torrid affair, to hear her tell it. A torrid affair full of expensive gifts and sweaty sex. Sweaty sex often at the office. Because that man she’s seeing, the married man she is banging? Is her boss.”

Mabel fairly spat her final words at her father, the weight of them unmistakable to Dipper. She was glaring now, practically raised out of her seat and halfway across the table, one hand on the table, the other clutching her napkin and resting against her abdomen. Dipper glanced over at their father. He was fully back in his seat, seemingly leaning away from his daughter’s assault, his hands resting on the arms of the chair and his face studiously absent of emotion. For once, Douglas Pines said nothing.  
The apparent stalemate stretched for a moment. Dipper found he had no idea how to react, no idea how this could have happened, no idea what came next. But apparently Mabel did. Because she turned away from their father and looked at their mother instead. Her expression turned to one of consolation and her tone became one of pleading.

“Mom, please, don’t do this anymore.” Mabel stared imploringly at the Mrs. Pines. “You know what Dipper and I have been through! What you have been through! What he has done to us. You know. Please don’t let this continue. Please don’t let him do it, do any of this, to any of us anymore. Please. This is the proof you need. Please. Please. Please!”

More emotion leaked into Mabel’s voice, and Dipper caught the tiniest glistening at the corner of her eye, a hint of what might soon appear.

“You know. You know and now you can walk away. We’ll all walk away. And then it will be over. Please.” The last word was whispered.

Slowly, Estella Pines raised her head, fixing her gaze on to Mabel, her daughter. Their mother’s face was a study in composition; posed, precise, and postured, and all of it deliberate. It was by looking into her eyes that one could usually discover the facade. For usually they were flat and devoid of all emotion. But not at this moment. In this moment, they fairly glittered with emotion. Hatred.

“Sit down, you fatuous, vapid, nonsensical, puerile child!” The pure venom in their mother’s tone nearly made Dipper gasp, and he could see Mabel freeze into motionlessness. “You have absolutely no idea how the real world works, nor of relationships, nor of love. It is completely inappropriate for you to attempt to comment on things you do not understand, and likely never will be able to. So quit embarrassing yourself and, more importantly, quit embarrassing your father. Do everyone in this room a favor and sit down right this instant and be quiet!”

Dipper stared at his mother. He knew Mabel was staring too. From the corner of his eye he could see their father straighten in his chair, the smile returning once more to his face. Their mother glanced between the two of them. “Honestly, if you weren’t my child, I would never associate with you.” And with a definitive motion, she returned her gaze back to the table.

Mabel stared for a moment longer, before throwing herself backwards with a violent motion. Her chair was knocked over, but she clearly paid it no mind as she backpedaled away from the table and, dropping her head to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself, fled the room.

Dipper instantly made to follow her, but the sound of his father clearing his throat brought him up short.

“You know better than to pay any attention to your sister’s outbursts, son.” Douglas Pine’s voice once again carried the same confident tone, the sneer in it audible even if his smile was perfectly polite. “She’s always been like this, as I am sure you remember. A willful child. For the life of me I cannot tell what went wrong there.”

He shrugged, and Dipper could tell that his father had already dismissed the incident from his mind. Dipper watched as his father reached for his glass, took a long sip, and placed it back once more. And then, as Mr. Pines was returning his arm back to its original position, he seemed to hesitate a moment before moving it over and giving Mrs. Pines a pat on the knee. Exactly one pat, and then his arm was back in place.

“Now.” Douglas Pines turned his attention to Dipper. “We were talking about you joining the firm.”

Dipper stared at his father, Douglas Pines’ face a mask of perfect assurance. Dipper stared at his mother, Estella Pines’ face a mask of perfect reticence. Dipper stared at both of his parents and heard only silence. It was the silence of this moment, composed of expectation, repudiation, and satisfaction; sharp and immediate. It was the silence of these years, composed of disdain, absence and neglect; debilitating and abiding. It was a silence that was seemingly absolute, having wrapped around its participants and spread, enveloping everything, slipping into the cracks of their very being. It was a silence that was unquestionable.

It was a silence that Dipper was going to break.

“I will never, ever join your firm.” His voice was calm and steady, even surprisingly so. “The idea of being a lawyer like you sickens me. To wake up each morning, with all the potential a new day brings, and to instead spend your day affirming your pretentious sense of self-worth and engaging in self-serving cynicism, inflating your own ego at the expense of people whose entire bank account is worth less than your suit and tie. The idea of spending my time actively attempting to cheat and scam people sickens me. The idea of sitting in a room with other similarly arrogant degenerates who share your capacity for reckless dehumanization sickens me. The idea of being anything like you sickens me. To the point of utter revulsion.”

The smile disappeared from Douglas Pines’ face, replaced instead by a frown and something stormy behind his eyes. “Now you listen here, boy.” He pointed a finger at Dipper. “I will not…”

“No, dad, you listen here.” Dipper cut him off, and felt a sense of immense satisfaction at the look of surprise which flashed across his father’s face. He seized on that satisfaction, using it to make his tone harder. “Because I am done listening to you. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’m done ever being around you. I would love to sit here and tell you all of the things that are wrong with you. The ways in which you are a bad person. To say nothing of your complete inability to be a decent parent or a husband. But what would the point be? You tell people these things in the hope that they will change, that they will become better.”

Dipper couldn’t prevent a touch of sadness from creeping into his voice. “But you will never change. You lack the capacity. You lack the basic human ability to understand just how truly fucked up you are.”

“And you have no idea how much you have probably fucked up your children, your son and daughter. How truly close to the precipice you have put both of us, how truly great our potential to be broken is.” He looked away for a moment, collecting himself, before looking back. His father just stared at him. His mother just stared at her plate. When Dipper spoke again, it was almost a whisper. “Even if you did, would you even care?”

Dipper shook his head and stood up. “It doesn’t matter now. It’s over. We’ll make our own way. You know, we really always have, because God knows we could never rely on either of you. I guess we always kind of hoped that might change, one day. I know you will call that hope, that desire, that need a childish one. You may be right. Then again, we were children. But not anymore.”

Tossing his napkin on the table, he fixed both of his parents with one last look, hoping that it conveyed the extent of his disdain. “I wish I could say it was lovely to see both of you again, but I think we can all agree that would be a lie. I’ll expect you to pick up this tab, since you so embarrassingly seized control of it anyway. So I guess this is goodbye. And good riddance.” Dipper leaned down, bracing his fists on the table as he gazed into his father’s eyes, reveling in the hate and rage and enmity that roiled within him. “If you ever contact Mabel or me again, if I ever see you again, if I even think you are going to try and make an appearance in our lives again, I will kill you.”

And with that Dipper pushed himself back up straight and walked away from the table, his head held high. He did not look back.

Dipper walked through the door in the back of the dining room, making his way through the hallways, passing the occasional wait staff and fellow patron. Finding the door he was looking for, he stepped through and entered the courtyard. The restaurant was fancy enough to turned the courtyard into a beautiful garden-scape, with a small pond and waterfall taking up an entire corner. The courtyard wasn’t advertised, and most of the diners probably didn’t know about it. But Dipper did. It had been one of the steps in tonight’s plan.

Mabel was sitting on a bench next to the pond. Exactly as he had suspected she would be. The gentle bubbling of the waterfall could be heard, the only sound in the space. The soft lighting of the courtyard played across her deep brown hair and along the little patch of pale skin, exposed by the strands of hair she had tucked behind her ear. She sat slightly hunched over, the positioning both protective and vulnerable, and Dipper could see that she was looking at a small photograph she held in her hands. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that Dipper couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

He walked over and sat beside her on the bench. She offered no reaction to his sudden presence, except to lean against him, her head against his shoulder. He adjusted himself slightly to make sure she was comfortable, and put an arm around her to hold her. They sat like that, together in companionable silence, a sense of tranquility pervading the courtyard. For the first time that evening, Dipper felt at peace.

“Well, that didn’t exactly go to plan, did it?” Mabel’s question was more than a little rhetorical. “You didn’t show me it, but I know you had one of your complicated listy-things for this evening. I can’t imagine finding out about dad’s cheating or me running away from the table in shame was on that list.”

Dipper gave his twin sister a reassuring squeeze. “There were a lot of things on that list, a lot of steps to the plan. But yeah, those things were not.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Not that I can really claim surprise. When has anything with our parents ever actually gone to plan?”

Mabel didn’t join in his laughter. “Dipper, what are we going to do now?” She asked.

“Same thing as we’ve always done.” Dipper attempted to put confidence into his voice, for Mabel’s sake. “We keep moving forward. We keep moving forward together. We don’t need anything else. We never did, right?”

“Yeah, but …” She hesitated a moment before whispering, “but we were supposed to tell them tonight.”

“I … yeah. I know we were.” Dipper said sadly, his voice low as well. “I’m so sorry Mabel. I don’t know why I thought that was a good idea. It was stupid of me.”

“No, Dip, we both –” Mabel’s tone was conciliatory, but Dipper quickly interrupted her.

“But now we don’t have to!” He spoke excitedly. “I told them off, both of them. I told them both that we never want to see them again, and that they are horrible people, and that we don’t need them. So we don’t have to think about them ever again.”  
“Okay, I mean, that sounds good in theory, but –”

“More than good, it sounds great!” Dipper continued. “Oh Mabel, you should’ve seen it, the look on the old man’s face. I think I really showed him, finally gave him a taste of his own medicine. . And it felt so good, to finally put him in his place, to cut him out forever.”

“Dip! That seems, I don’t know –”

“Don’t you see Mabel!” Dipper exclaimed, cutting her off. “This is finally it! I know you’re scared, but that’s okay. I’m a little scared too. But we’ve made it this far, and together we can do anything! This is for the best. You have to see that, surely!”  
Mabel said nothing. She just stared down at her lap.

Dipper noticed this, and looked at her with concern. “Hey, hey Mabes.” He gave her a little shake.

She still didn’t say anything, so he tried again, tenderly brushing more of her hair behind her ear. “What’s wrong? I thought you would be happy about this decision.”

Mabel was quiet for a moment longer. “It’s not the decision, Dip. It’s that you made it without me.”

The implication of her statement was clear, and Dipper couldn’t think of what to say.

Mabel continued. “And now, here you are, explaining to me why it was the right thing, and I can’t get a word in edgewise because you keep interrupting me. It’s exactly like what dad does.”

There was no accusation in her voice, but Dipper felt his stomach drop.

“And now here I am, being silent and blank and feeling like the right thing for me to do is just not do anything. To just depend on you, like I always have. Just like what mom does.” Her tone carried an immense amount of sadness. “And I know that’s wrong, that I shouldn’t feel that way. I know that. But it’s just so hard to fight against it. I’ve been told something all my life, shown something all my life. I’m not sure I know how to just … stop that. It’s so difficult, and it scares me. It scares me so much.”

Her words pierced Dipper through his heart. All he could think to do was gather her into his arms and hold her tight. It was either that, or begin to cry. She accepted his compassion, pushing herself closer to him and relaxing into him. They remained that way for some time.

Finally, Dipper managed to speak. “You aren’t her Mabel. You could never be her.” He knew that his desperation was evident in his voice, and he fervently hoped she understood just how strongly he felt. “You are kind and compassionate, vivacious and cheerful, smart and funny and sweet and so incredibly unique as a person. You don’t depend on me, we depend on each other. That’s the difference. You are wonderful and deserving of love. You are a complete rejection of everything she stands for, and I adore you for it. Please don’t ever doubt that. There is no one else like you, Mabel. There never could be.”

He cleared his throat with a little cough, and could hear Mabel sniffle against his arm.

“Thank you, Dip.” She whispered. “You aren’t anything like him either. You actually care about people and you think of others, to the point you actually put them before yourself. I’ve never seen anyone so loving or amazing as you. He could never do what you do. You work so hard at everything, and have a job that you don’t do for social standing or anything dumb like that, but because you actually enjoy it and are passionate about it. I’m so proud of you.”

It was impossible to hold back the tears now, after hearing such words from the woman he loved more than anything. By her gentle shaking, he could tell Mabel was crying too. So, holding each other, they cried together.

“Dip?” Her voice was hesitant.

“Yeah Mabes?” He asked.

“Do you love me?” It was a tentative question, full of vulnerability.

“More than anything, Mabel.” He tried to convey just how strongly that was the case.

“How much do you love me?” This time, her tone was a little playful, and he smiled, recognizing the routine now.

“So much. To the moon and back.” He gave the correct response, rote by endless repetition.

“And how long will you love me?” She asked the final question with all the gravitas it deserved.

“For all of this lifetime, and for all the rest.” He gave the promise with the utmost sincerely, though there was a slight smile on his face. It felt good to speak their familiar mantra, a back and forth they had shared since the beginning. It made him feel as though everything would be alright. The feeling bolstered him, and he reached into his pocket, fumbling for the little black box he knew was there.

“Do you think mom and dad ever said the same thing to each other?” Mabel’s voice was small but she spoke her query earnestly, a slight edge of steel present in it.

Her words brought him up short. Dipper was fairly sure their parents had never expressed such sentiment. Or, at least, had never expressed such sentiment and meant it. Even if that were the case, however, the thought wasn’t exactly a comforting one. Slowly, he removed his hand from his pocket.

“I don’t know Mabel.” He told her honestly. “But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is that we’re saying it now, and that we will keep saying it. Always.”

Mabel adjusted herself, sitting up straight and holding the photograph so that they both could see the picture contained on it. It was a small photograph, and grainy, the blacks and whites seemingly random and scattered and unintelligible. But if he looked close enough, and maybe squinted while holding his head at an angle, Dipper could just make out the little arms and a leg with a tiny foot at the end. The white text in the bottom corner proclaimed “27 weeks, female, Cassie.”

“What are we going to do now, Dipper?”

It wasn’t really a question, but he answered it anyway. “I don’t know, Mabel. I don’t know.

The two sat, staring at the photograph and holding each other, until long after the restaurant had closed.


End file.
